Dramione Story
by Nova94
Summary: The title says it, it's just a basic Dramione fic.  Happy ending, in case that matters to you.  Rated T for language/possible content in some later scenes.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a Dramione fic, starting the summer after book 7 ends. It is written in the EWE style (Epilogue? What Epilogue?), and I'll try to stick to the characters as much as is possible in a Dramione story. (ie: Harry and Ron will not immediately become friends with Draco after a single meeting.) Beyond that, I have no expectations for this story, besides the fact that being my first, it will probably be complete crap. Oh well. Here goes.**

Hermione slowly walked down the stairs in the Burrow. Her head was cloudy; it was early. She glanced at the clock, but then remembered that it was the Weasley family clock, and couldn't tell her the time any more than a mouse could.

_Well_, she thought, _that would be an interesting transfiguration lesson, turning mice into clocks._ _Challenging._ Though she constantly worked hard during the school year, she still remembered a number of classes where she had been bored out of her mind because she already knew the material Professor McGonagall was going over. Despite that, Hermione had paid close attention, as always, in case she mentioned something that wasn't in the book.

She walked into the kitchen and looked at the digital clock on the counter. It read 4:37. This clock was a recent addition. She and Harry had worked very hard to get it installed in the house without Mr. Weasley tampering with it. They had also had to place a number of protective charms around it to prevent future "examinations" as well. Hermione had personally put a charm on it that supplied it with power without the need for electricity, seeing as the Burrow had never been wired for it.

To console the rather depressed Mr. Weasley, they had pooled their muggle money and bought him an iPod, which he absolutely loved (once he figured out how to work it). They suspected he hadn't been able to resist tampering with it, either, since its speakers now played snatches of Celestina Warbeck at random times, (a decidedly non-muggle singer) and Hermione thought she had heard it muttering to itself one day. She would be worried, but she knew the only thing Mr. Weasley was more passionate about than tampering with muggle technology was avoiding sentient magic. His paranoia was admittedly justified after their second year encounter with Riddle's diary, but it had been amplified when Ron let slip about how he was affected by the locket horcrux during the previous year.

Hermione was not up early for any particular reason. She simply couldn't sleep. She still had bad dreams about the battle at Hogwarts, though they had gotten less frequent as the summer progressed. She knew she couldn't complain; she got off easy compared to Harry.

Despite, or perhaps because, he had personally vanquished Voldemort, Harry had woken Ron nearly every night for the first month of summer, thrashing in his sleep on his cot in Ron's room. After that, he simply moved to the attic, which had been recently vacated by the ghoul. When it had found out its occupation of Ron's room (pretending to be Ron with spattergroit) was only temporary, it had up and left one night, leaving a smell of sulfur behind that Ron had still not managed to completely get rid of.

Hermione walked towards the door out to the garden. She always liked the garden at the Weasley's, even with the gnomes. They didn't bother humans at night, provided you stayed away from their holes, and it was so peaceful there. Of course, she knew that having broken up with Ron the two days before, she probably wouldn't be able to enjoy her place of solitude much longer. The Weasleys would never kick her out, but she was going to leave; it would just be too awkward if she stayed.

She resolutely pushed thoughts of Ron out of her mind. She wouldn't sully her last night of peace by thinking of him. She lay on the ground, heedless of the dirt sticking to her nightshirt. She stared up at the stars, contemplating.

Her thoughts invariably strayed to the war, as they always seemed to in her moments of quiet reflection. But this time her mind was not filled with visions of terror or the memory of pain. Instead, she remembered the final battle, and that triumphant, stunned feeling that everyone had gotten when they finally realized that Voldemort, the epitome of evil, was finally gone. The elation didn't set in for a full five minutes beyond, at least not for Hermione. She had just been so glad it was finally over.

She wandered among her memories of that day: seeing Luna and Neville finally kiss, kissing Ron herself after he suggested they save the house elves (she felt a pang in her heart at this, but pushed it away), Harry and Ginny had finally been able to be together again… Then her thoughts wandered to one face in the crowd, one she hadn't even thought of until now. A single, pale face, with platinum hair that just fell into his eyes.

She knew his father was a Death Eater. She knew he was a Death Eater. She still loathed him like any good Gryffindor would loathe a Slytherin. Yet all she felt now was sadness, and a sort of pity, as she remembered his lone unsmiling face amidst the reveling crowd.

She wondered what had become of Draco Malfoy.

**A/N: This first chapter was just set-up. That's why I'm posting the second and third chapters at the same time. Not too much action until later on (I have a feeling this is gonna be a long one).**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: As promised, the second chapter. Third is coming in about 5 minutes.**

Draco Malfoy himself was wondering the same thing.

He didn't feel like himself, he hadn't for what seemed like a very long time. He just felt, empty, soulless. It felt like the dementors had already administered the kiss that he knew was coming soon. He just stared at the wall of his cell in the new levels of Azkaban, and remembered.

After the final battle at Hogwarts, when Potter had finally killed the Dark Lord, massive celebrations broke out. Malfoy had tried to slip away in the ensuing confusion, but alas, no such luck. He was seen twice, but only caught once.

The first time was as he was leaving the enormous knot of revelers around the Golden Trio. He managed to squeeze out through the open doors of the Great Hall, where the celebrations were taking place. He got out unmolested mainly because he was wearing nondescript blue robes, borrowed from a trunk left abandoned somewhere on the battlefield. He hadn't wanted to stick out, and wearing his Death Eater uniform or Slytherin robes would have been tantamount to committing suicide. Also, the crush of people was so great, that if anyone had tried to stop him, they wouldn't have been able to anyway.

He stopped in the entrance hall, then walked out the main doors and onto the grounds. He had plastered a painfully fake smile on his face on the way out, just for appearances, but once outside in the warm night air, he gladly let it drop. He glanced around, and thought he was alone. He checked again; no one could see him now.

Finally convinced no one was there, he began to release the stopgap on his emotions. No sobs escaped his tightly closed mouth, just silent tears in the night. He would only allow that much, even now. He had heard his father was dead from one of the partiers inside. The speaker hadn't even recognized him; he just reported the news jubilantly in a list of the dead and kept pushing towards Potter. At the time Draco had been too stunned to even muster a reply, he just kept pushing out.

Now, he didn't even know why he was sad. He had hated the arrogant abusive bastard his entire life. He had only actually beaten Draco a few times in his life, but those beatings stood out stark in his memory, amidst a backdrop of verbal abuse and humiliation that was far more degrading to the spirit than the beatings ever were.

In truth, he was glad for the beatings, they gave him something to fight against. It was hard to make arguments against his father; he seemed to have all Draco's possible retorts figured out beforehand. It was much easier to simply hate him for physical violence than to try to rebel against a philosophy that he knew in his heart was wrong, while all his logical arguments against it were casually thrown out the window. Eventually he had learned to accept the pureblood view, if he still didn't embrace it. He merely accepted it as an unfortunate fact of life, and that soothed his conscience. "That's just the way it is, and I can't change it" was all he could bear. He couldn't completely commit to it like the other Death Eaters did. Like Lucious did.

Nevertheless, he had been Draco's father, and a man whom he had once looked up to.

Following immediately on the heels of his sadness was anger. Fourth year was when Lucious had stopped being Draco's role model. When the Dark Lord returned, his father had gone to grovel at his feet. Thereafter, he changed. He became obsessed with pleasing his Lord; he thought of nothing but their latest plans. Voldemort had taken his father from him, he thought angrily.

After anger, he felt relief, because Voldemort was finally gone. Malfoy never thought he'd be grateful to any of the Golden Trio, but at that moment he could have hugged any one of them. Well, Potter and Granger, at least. Maybe not Weasley. Potter at least he respected as an adversary, and Granger, well, she scared him, though he would never admit it, but he respected her as well (especially after that punch in their third year). Weasley on the other hand, had too little control, finesse, or skill for Malfoy to ever respect him.

All these emotions washed over him, and his silent tears leaked out, and he was too engaged in his inner turmoil to notice someone else had appeared nearby, seemingly in a similar situation.

George Weasley had no stomach for celebration. He felt strange, as if some part of his body had been amputated, but he couldn't quite figure out what. Life hardly seemed worth living anymore, without his other half. He saw a figure by the door, and recognized him by his distinctive hair. He was about to call out... well, anything derisive he could think of… when he saw the tear streaks on his cheeks, reflecting the moonlight. He found he couldn't bring himself to do it. He recognized the loss he so clearly felt himself, and found to his surprise that he was empathizing with the "little ferret," silhouetted against the golden light of the hall.

He didn't bring attention to himself; he just quietly sat down on a stone wall to the left of Malfoy's long shadow, and watched him.

The grieved together, unknowingly, for completely different things. One cried for a brother, lost in the war. The other cried for a father, victim of the same. One couldn't bear the thought of joking again, the other had never done so in his life. Two men, completely different, yet the same, together in grief, yet totally opposite.

Then Draco dried his eyes, and stepped into the darkness. George did the same, and walked into the light.

**A/N: Not too happy w/this chapter. It just seems so... idk... dramatic? Wrong word... Cheesey? That's not right either, but getting closer. Look at me, a writer that can't think of a word. That's just sad. Anyway, you know the drill for this sort of thing: Review and something funny will happen. (It's too late for me to think up something witty.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Like I said, here's the third chapter. Finally, we get some prolonged dialogue!**

Hermione woke around six in the morning, when the first rays of the sun touched her sleeping place in the garden. She stood up after a minute of collecting herself, and brushed herself off lightly. No one was up yet, not even Mrs. Weasley, though she would be soon. Hermione climbed back up the stairs to the room she was sharing with Ginny.

She lay back down in her bed, and stared at the ceiling for a good long time, drifting in and out of consciousness, not really thinking about anything, just simply being. Finally, when the rest of the household began to awaken, she sat up again, and got dressed.

Despite her delay, she was still the first one down to breakfast.

"Morning dear," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Morning Mrs. Weasley," she replied, helping herself to the plates of food already set out on the long Weasley table.

"Oh, where are those boys?" Mrs. Weasley said, distractedly, before calling up the stairs in her famously loud voice, "BOYS! BREAKFAST!"

Hermione heard a muffled acknowledgement from above. It must have been George or Percy; Ron's bedroom was too high up to have called down, though they still would have heard Mrs. Weasley's call up. She had an amazing pair of lungs.

A few minutes later, as Hermione was just finishing off her eggs and starting on the kippers, Ginny walked down, followed nearly immediately by Percy.

"Hey, mum. Hey, Hermione," Ginny said, "What's today?"

"It's Saturday, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Why do you ask?"

"No, I meant what's the date?" Ginny said, not answering the question.

"It's the 1st of August, Ginny, now why do you want to know?"

"Well," Ginny said, yawning widely, "We're supposed to get our Hogwarts letters today, aren't we?"

Hermione started. With all the drama from her fight with Ron and subsequent breakup, she had completely forgotten to freak out about the letters. Belatedly, she began to bounce nervously in her seat.

"Relax, Hermione," Percy said, soothingly.

"I can't," she said, putting her fork down. She couldn't eat with the butterflies in her stomach. She didn't even know why she was so nervous; it wasn't like after OWL year, when they all waited on tenderhooks to receive their grades. (Or Hermione did anyway, she assumed the rest of them took their education as seriously as she did.)

George walked down the stairs at that point, yawning hugely. After Fred's death, he had been like walking zombie for about a month. He was more somber than an undertaker, and not a single witticism escaped his mouth. Then, suddenly, and without warning, he changed. He began to joke again. Needless to say, it was a much welcome relief for the Weasleys Harry and Hermione. He wasn't his old self; nothing could really put him back like he was before Fred died. But, he was still funny, and the joke shop was still running strong, with Ron working there part time until he found a permanent partner.

"Why so edgy, Hermione?" he asked, sitting down across from her.

"Our Hogwarts letters come today," she said, still practically vibrating with energy.

"Ah," George replied, "Anxious about the Head Girl position, are you? Don't worry, if anything, you're more prepared for it than Bighead Boy over here was." He pointed to Percy on his left as he said it, who choked on his orange juice when he tried to snort in indignation.

With a start, Hermione remembered that she _would_ be eligible for Head Girl this year. She had completely forgotten about it consciously (though she suspected her subconscious might have remembered, and manifested itself in her unexplainable nervousness).

Percy was still coughing and spluttering when Harry, Ron, and Ginny walked in. Ron looked awkwardly at Hermione, before quickly glancing away. He pointedly sat down at the opposite end of the table, on Hermione's side, so there was no chance of making eye contact. He attacked his food with more intensity than even he usually displayed.

"Damn, Ron," George said, as the younger Weasley viciously attacked a sausage, "What did that poor kipper ever do to you?"

Ron ignored him, and continued eating. Harry and Ginny both sat down and began to eat, but didn't get more than a few mouthfuls in before Mrs. Weasley said, "I think these are for you lot."

She was pointing out the window at a group of handsome owls, flying in perfect formation towards the house. She opened the kitchen window, and they swooped in, one by one, to land in front of their respective recipients.

Hermione practically dropped her letter as she untied it; her hands were shaking. She paused for a second, and willed them to be still. She opened the letter. It was the usual message: term starts on September 1st, book list is enclosed, etc. But there was something else in there too. She pulled out a second piece of parchment, this one folded over and sealed again with the Hogwarts crest, just as the envelope was.

She broke the wax, and at the slight yet distinctive noise, George looked up and said, "Yup, that'll be it, Hermione. Head Girl. I remember when the Head Girl letter came for Percy as well. He actually framed it."

"Don't you mean Head _Boy_ letter?" Harry asked.

George made an exaggerated wink, and replied sarcastically, "Of _course_, Harry. But seriously, though. He _did_ frame it."

"Really?" Harry asked, turning to Percy.

Percy did not reply, but his ears turned red and he suddenly became very interested in the wooden napkin holder on the table in front of him.

Hermione ignored them all, and read the letter.

_Dear Miss Hermione Granger,_

_ We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to be this year's Head Girl. Enclosed is your badge, as well as the name of the Head Boy. Be reminded that with this post comes great responsibility, and extra duties as well. If you should not feel up to these duties or responsibilities, we will expect your owl no later than August 15__th__. Otherwise, you are to report to the prefect's cabin on the Hogwarts express at the start of term, to speak with the headmistress furthers. _

_ We must inform you that there has been a deviation from the traditions of the past. This year, due to forced remodeling of the castle _(Hermione supposed this was referring to the destruction caused at the end of the previous year)_ there is only one head dormitory. A second bedroom has been added to the common room, and you will be sharing the common room with the Head Boy. As heads, you will both be expected to set a good example for the rest of the students and show inter-house unity. Congratulations again on being selected._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Poppy Pomfrey_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Hermione dropped the letter, stunned. So… she _was_ Head Girl after all. She knew it was possible, maybe even likely, but she wasn't overconfident enough to assume she would get it automatically. Now that she found out she had, she was simply too shocked to tell how she felt.

The others began to congratulate her even before she finished the letter.

"Good job Hermione," Harry said, smiling from across the table.

"Yeah," added Ginny, "We all knew you'd get it, but it's nice to see it confirmed."

"But I didn't even say anything," she protested weakly, "How do you know I got it?"

"We knew from the look on your face," George said, grinning, and Hermione couldn't help but smile back at all of them.

She upended the envelope again, and the badge fell out. Different from a prefect's badge, it had no specific house color, but bore the entire Hogwarts crest, lion, eagle, badger, and snake. It said Hogwarts across the top in gold letters and said Head Girl across the bottom in silver.

Along with the badge came a small slip of paper. She assumed this must have the name of the Head Boy on it. She wondered who she'd be sharing a dormitory with, and hoped it would be someone bearable.

Apparently the rest of the people gathered wanted to know as well, as they all asked in unison, "Who's Head Boy?"

Obviously it wouldn't be another Gryffindor, they wouldn't have both heads from the same house. Maybe it would be Ernie Macmillan, from Hufflepuff. Or perhaps someone from Ravenclaw?

Alas, no such luck. As she turned it over, she saw the name was written in green ink, a sure sign it was from Slytherin. _Oh, well_, she sighed, _might as well get it over with._ And she read the name out loud.

**A/N: Bet you can guess who it is? Btw, don't kill me for the sharing a dormitory cliche. I know it's insanely overused, but I just felt like putting it in there. And am I the only one who thinks it's weird that Madame Pomfrey now has Professor McGonagall's job? w/e... Read, Review, Revel in your Reception of something synonymous with the word gratitude that actually starts with an R. (Hey, it's 3:00 in the morning, give me a break). Only got the first 3 chapters written so far, so the next one will be posted in a few days. Be warned, once school starts (29th of August) I probably won't post as regularly.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Here it is, chapter 4, a day later, as promised. Enjoy.**

Draco Malfoy was confused.

Now, this was not a very common occurrence for him. He always kept on top of things, and prided himself on being very quick-witted. But this just confused him.

One of the guards at Azkaban (they were human now, the Dementors were kept in reserve, and only for the Kiss) had just thrown a piece of parchment through the bars of Draco's cell. No, not a piece of parchment, a letter.

He didn't even know he could get mail in prison. And certainly not in this section of the prison. It was a simple manila envelope, and it looked muggle-made. His curiosity increased. He didn't know anyone who would write to him, let alone someone who would be writing on muggle paper. (Contrary to popular belief, Draco _did_ know quite a bit about muggles, despite his belief he was better than them.)

He opened the letter with difficulty. Even muggle envelopes were confusing! This one was more like a tough paper pouch than an envelope anyway. Inside was a single piece of paper. Draco eyed it thoughtfully. Anyone who spent enough time in the muggle world would know to mail just a single piece of paper in a regular envelope, not one like this. So maybe it was a wizard using muggle mail? But why, he wondered.

He turned it over, and began to read.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_ I am sending you this letter by muggle post, because Azkaban will not allow any owls inside, except for very special circumstances. I am pleased to inform you that we have been able to secure your release, on the grounds that while the crime of inaction is enough to imprison you, we feel that your time already served is sufficient, and it would be ill met to punish the son for the crimes of the father. To this end, you will be released some time in the month following your receiving of this letter, which, if the muggle post system is any good, should be on or around the first of August._ At this, Draco paused, and shouted to the guard, "Oi, you!"

"What is it, Malfoy?" the guard replied, sounding annoyed.

"What's today's date?" he asked, knowing the mundane question would undoubtedly get him an unpleasant response.

"It's the first of August, now shut up, I'm trying to read the paper," came the reply from down the hall.

_Well,_ Draco thought, _It's on time. Turns out muggles _can_ do something right._ He resumed reading the letter.

_You shall not be released unconditionally, _it continued, _but rather on a form of probation. You shall be escorted by Auror to Diagon Alley, to purchase school supplies. From there, you will be returned to your mansion, there to remain under house arrest until the start of term. You shall be escorted to the Hogwarts Express, and from the train to the school. Once classes begin, you shall be given complete freedom of the school, but will be required to have an escort should you wish to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. This escort, however, need not be an Auror, something which I believe you will be happy about. You should be receiving your official Hogwarts letter soon, which will contain the name of the Head Girl and Head Boy. One of them will have to escort you to Hogsmeade. If, by the end of the year, you have kept to legal activities, and given us no reason to distrust you, you shall be released from all imprisonment with a full pardon, and be free to enter the world with the rest of your graduating class. If not, you shall return to your current cell in Azkaban until we can decide what to do with you._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Headmistress of Hogwarts_

Draco stayed staring at the letter for a long time, and barely even noticed the guard's approach. He did notice, however, when he rattled the bars, and asked, "What made you so popular." He threw another letter at Draco, and walked away.

Draco picked the second letter up. It was a parchment envelope, so it was undoubtedly wizard post. Must have been that special circumstances the letter just mentioned. He turned it over and saw it was sealed with the Hogwarts crest. This must be the course letter then. He opened it, and saw the traditional cover letter. He threw it aside impatiently, and pulled out the next piece of parchment, scanning it quickly.

He did a double take, and then re-read the first part. _WHAT?_

He was stunned. Head Boy? Who in their right mind would make an ex-Death Eater Head Boy? He wondered if Professor McGonagall knew about it. He doubted it. He saw that the Hogwarts letter was written by Madame Pomfrey, apparently taking McGonagall's place as assistant headmistress. The letter he had received by muggle post was written by McGonagall herself.

There must have been a miscommunication between the two. There was no way they would make him Head Boy, especially considering how that apparently meant he could escort _himself_ out of the castle whenever he wanted.

He finished reading the parchment, and was about to put it back in the envelope, when he saw a post-script on the back. Obviously this was not part of the form letter. He turned it over, reading:

_Mr. Malfoy, there has been no mistake, or miscommunication. You _are_ Head Boy, so I suggest you look the part when you report to me on the train in one month's time. And I would request you _try_ to follow the suggestion in the letter, and set a good example for the rest of the students by cooperating with the Head Girl. Obviously this will be hard for you, given your past, but you are required to try and make it work. She will have to be your escort to Hogsmeade, as you obviously cannot be allowed to escort yourself._

_-Professor McGonagall_

Draco sat back, stunned. So it _wasn't_ a mix-up. He wondered why they would make _him_ the Head Boy. He didn't think about that too long, though, as he remembered that the name of the Head Girl would be in the envelope.

He upended it once again, and the badge fell out, followed by a fluttering piece of paper. He picked up the badge, and laid it on his lap, watching it shine for a second in the torchlight. The gold of the Gryffindor quadrant reflected red into his face. Damn Gryffindors, he thought, shifting it slightly so it wouldn't blind him. Somehow even now they managed to annoy him.

He picked up the small slip of paper off the grimy floor, and turned it over. That infuriating red shined at him again, this time from the paper. The Head Girl must be a Gryffindor, then. Figures.

_Well,_ he thought, _I hope it's not someone _too_ annoying, though with Gryffindors that's basically impossible._

He read the name, and groaned. Of _course_ it would be her.

**A/N: I'm not always going to alternate Hermione/Draco/Hermione/Draco viewpoints. It just happened to work out that way for the first few chapters. There's a small yellow bubble at the bottom of the page. Please click it. You'll get candy! ;-)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: And, chapter 5. In honor of my first review, I have graced my two fans (two! yes!) with a second chapter today. These things really only take like 30 min, not counting editing, 'cause I'm really just posting single scenes. (I wonder if anyone actually reads these author notes. I know I never do. If anyone does, tell me so, please.)**

"Come on, Ginny, wake up," Hermione exclaimed.

"Five more minutes," the youngest Weasley murmured in her sleep.

Hermione sighed, and pulled the covers off her friend. "Come on Gin, get up! Your mum says we're leaving in half an hour."

"Leaving for what?" she asked, crossly, sitting up, hair disheveled, eyes squinting in the bright light streaming in the windows.

"For Diagon Alley, of course," Hermione replied in a huff. Honestly, how could anyone forget the day they all got to get their new school supplies? It was so exciting, a new year starting.

"Ugh," Ginny said articulately, and rolled onto the floor, dragging a mess of sheets tangled in her feet. She raised her head slightly, "Five more minutes," she said, and dropped her head back on the floor, asleep again.

Hermione signed, and then said, "Aguamenti," and waved her wand. A jet of water shot out for a second, and hit Ginny in the face. Needless to say, she got up quickly, coughing and spluttering, with murder in her eyes.

"What was that for?" she asked, angrily. "You could have just prodded me."

"I did," Hermione replied, "And you didn't get up."

Ginny sighed, realizing Hermione was probably telling the truth. "Well," she said, grumpily, "I'm up now." She yawned hugely. "When are we leaving?"

"Half an hour," Hermione repeated. "Well, 25 minutes now," she corrected, looking at her watch. Ginny swore, and stumbled towards the door, her feet still somewhat entangled in her bedding. When she was finally free, she went down the hall to the bathroom and completed the waking Hermione had started by dunking her head in a basin of cold water.

Twenty-five minutes later, all the Weasleys, Hermione, and Harry were sitting comfortably inside a 1987 Ford Fiesta, modified much like its predecessor, the Weasley's Ford Anglia.

"I prefer Fords," Mr. Weasley said when Harry inquired about his choice in manufacturers, "They're simple, but durable, and there's something about their construction makes them easy to charm. And plus the fact," he added under his breath, "that this was all I could afford."

They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron in record time, no doubt due to some of the charms Mr. Weasley had placed on the car. He seemed to have borrowed some ideas from the ministry cars that they had been lent to bring Harry to Charing Cross during his third year, when Sirius was at large and still considered a criminal. The cars leapt to the head of the line at any light, and they made detours down several alleys that a motorbike probably would have had trouble with.

They all piled out outside the Leakey Cauldron, much to the confusion of a muggle family waiting to cross the road. Hermione distinctly heard the little boy say, "Look mummy, a clown car!" which she and Harry found funny, but no one else got.

"Alright you lot," Mrs. Weasley said to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny once they got through the pub to Diagon Alley proper. "Don't wander off too far, and we're meeting back at the pub for lunch at noon, alright?"

"Alright," they chorused back at her, and she headed off with Mr. Weasley.

"So," Hermione said, "I think we should start at Flourish and Blotts, to get our new books. Then we can head over to the Apothecary for potions supplies, and from there to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes if you boys _must_ go, and then Madam Malkin's is right across the street, and from there—"

"Hermione," Harry cut her off, grinning, "Slow down. We're not going anywhere until we visit Gringotts. How can we buy supplies if we don't have money?"

She grinned, her cheeks flushed, "Sorry, I just got excited."

"We could tell," Ron said derisively, addressing her directly for the first time since their breakup, "Any more excited, and you'd have to change your knickers."

Hermione stared at him for a second, then flushed bright red with understanding, and felt a hot prickling behind her eyes. _No_, she thought, _I will _not _cry in front of him._ _He's not worth that._

"Ron!" Ginny and Harry said in unison. They looked at each other, and nodded, seemingly communicating telepathically.

Harry said, "Come on, mate. We need to talk," to Ron, and at the same time Ginny said, "Come with me, Hermione."

The two pairs walked in different directions for about ten paces, then stopped to talk.

"Hermione, my brother's an idiot." Ginny began. "Just ignore wh—" she was suddenly interrupted by a scathing voice from behind them.

"Why so sad, Granger, did the bookshop run out of copies of Magic for Mudbloods?"

There was Malfoy, arrogant as ever, a little smirk across his pale face. His blonde hair was slicked back, as it had been in his early days at Hogwarts.

"Malfoy?" Ginny said, surprised. "I thought you were still in Azkaban. Or did you worm your way out of that? Turn in the rest of your little Death Eater friends for an early parole? You obviously bribed _someone_, to get Head Boy."

Malfoy looked surprised by her retort. "Well," he said after a second, "Looks like Weaselette has teeth after all. But you still didn't answer my question, Granger." He turned back to Hermione. "What's got your knickers in a twist? Did the Weasel finally dump you?"

That wasn't what had just happened, but it _was_ the source of the trouble, so Malfoy's taunts cut deeper than they normally would have, and she felt her tears finally spill out.

Malfoy looked surprised; maybe he hadn't expected what for them was simple conversation to hurt so badly. Hermione looked away, not wanting him to see exactly how badly he had hurt her, so she missed how his expression changed. Had she not looked away, she would have been confused by the look that crossed his face. As it was, only Ginny saw that the surprise was quickly followed by a slight twinge of sadness, and then regret.

Even she doubted she had actually seen it, because when she looked back, his face was as blank and emotionless as always. Thus, she replied, "Just go away, you blonde slime ball. You're nearly as bad as Snape," she said, and turned away with a final glare at his slicked-back hair.

He moved past them, immediately followed by two dark, ominous looking men whose attitude somehow just screamed "Auror." Somehow they had missed them before, though they seemed glaringly obvious now. They watched them disappear down the street, neither surprised that the aurors were following Malfoy, but more surprised that he didn't seem to care.

Hermione turned back, her eyes dry now, ready to continue conversation. "I do wonder how he got out of Azkaban, though. You're probably right; I'll bet he _did_ give them names in exchange."

"Well," Ginny said thoughtfully, "If he did, the ones he put away probably hate him as much as we do." That thought seemed to brighten her up, and she turned her full attention back to Hermione.

"Now, as I was saying before the ferret interrupted: Ron's an idiot, and you shouldn't let him get to you. You had perfectly legitimate reasons for breaking up, and honestly, most of those reasons were from him. He's my brother, and I love him, but sometimes he can be a real prat. I'll try to talk to him, and Harry is talking to him now, but I think the best thing for you would be to just ignore him until he cools down over the whole thing." She was slightly winded at the end of this, having said it all in one breath, and she looked hopefully at Hermione.

Hermione looked at her, then nodded. "Don't you think that just ignoring him will make him angry all over again?" she asked. Angry as she was, she wasn't _too_ eager to prolong the conflict (even though she knew she was completely in the right).

"In the beginning, yes, but then he'll start to miss you, and eventually come around," Ginny reasoned.

Hermione was skeptical, but she decided to try it. _If it doesn't work,_ she reasoned, _we'll be no worse off than we are now._ And so, a few minutes later when Harry returned followed by a chastised looking Ron, Hermione said not a word of greeting to him.

In fact, she managed not to talk to him through their entire shopping trip, though she was sure that he was stopped from making sarcastic comments several times only by the liberal application of an elbow in the ribs, courtesy of Harry.

**A/N: Hmmmmm... not too satisfied with this chapter... It seems too dialogue heavy, which is something I always find annoying in other fics. People have the characters explain everything, and don't use enough narration. Read, Review, Recieve... something... ****Candy doesn't work... it doesn't start with R... ****I'm gonna figure out a word eventually!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Here it is, another chapter. Sorry I didn't post one yesterday. Ate a 1lb bag of sweedish fish plus a half pack of double-stuff oreos, on top of a murderous sunburn, and I really didn't feel like writing.  
**

**Be happy, tho, because in this chapter we get to see inside the prefect's car, which is new, and never before seen in the original canon series. It's not very interesting really. Just another train car. Like the others, but w/o individual compartments. Think of the car they show in the sixth movie, where Malfoy stuns Harry and Luna finds him. Don't get excited, 'cause I don't think I even describe it in here.**

It would be easy to get lost in the hustle and bustle on Platform 9 ¾, so the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione stuck together as a group until they reached the train itself. Then they broke up, and got on the train one by one, after hugging Mrs. Weasley goodbye.

Hermione had been persuaded by Ginny, Harry, George, and Mrs. Weasley to remain at the Burrow for the remainder of the summer, despite the awkward situation between her and Ron. They managed well, under the circumstances, as their interests were different enough they only contacted each other at mealtimes and would occasionally cross paths while passing in the halls. Hermione had avoided too much contact with Harry, (who she felt was a big boy, and could deal without her for a bit, provided he didn't need any homework done) as she was much more likely to run into Ron if she hung around with Harry.

Consequentially, she had become much closer with Ginny these past few weeks, and it was Ginny who said, "See if you can visit us later, after the meeting," as Hermione set off towards the first car after dropping her luggage in their compartment.

Ron had pointedly waited a minute before following her, (being a prefect himself, and required at the same meeting) to avoid the burden of conversation, or lack thereof, as they walked. That suited Hermione fine; she was doing quite well without him, thank you very much.

At first she had been skeptical of Ginny's suggestion of ignoring Ron, and even though it didn't seem to be reconciling them, Hermione was happy with it anyway. If he wasn't interested in repairing their friendship, then she was happy without it entirely.

She walked into the prefect's car, and immediately headed for Professor McGonagall, who was standing at the head of the train. She smiled at Hermione, and gestured for her to sit while they waited for the rest of the prefects to arrive. Hermione glanced at the seat across from her, and there, lying on the long bench, was the head boy.

He smirked at her, and sat up, then resumed picking his nails and dusting lint off his immaculate robes. He had already changed into school attire. Come to think of it, she had never once seen him in muggle clothes. She was so used to him in robes that it would probably just look odd, like Hagrid if he shaved, or Professor McGonagall with her hair down.

She scanned the carriage; there seemed to be a fair number of prefects there already, but by no means the full compliment. Professor McGonagall waited until about five minutes after the train started so the stragglers could arrive, then started.

"Well, you're all here, so let's begin. You are all prefects, and now have the ability to dock points from fellow students. This is not a responsibility to be taken lightly, and if you abuse it, it will be removed." Hermione noticed that although the headmistress scanned the whole room with a stern eye as she said this, her gaze did seem to linger upon the Slytherins for the longest. She obviously remembered Draco's reaction to becoming a prefect in sixth year. Somehow that hadn't affected her decision to make him Head Boy, though.

"That being said," Professor McGonagall continued in a lighter tone, "as a prefect, you shall also have access to the prefect's bathroom. The password this year will be 'coffee cakes'. This password is _not_ to be given out to anyone who is not a prefect, or the offending prefect shall be banned from the room."

"You shall patrol the corridors at night, in the three hours after curfew. A schedule will be posted in the new prefect's room on the fourth floor. This room is an unused classroom, and will serve as a meeting place and notice board for all prefect and head activities. You will be expected to check it periodically. the maintenance of this room, shall be the responsibility of the heads," she turned to Hermione and Malfoy, "beyond the regular cleaning Filch will do, as it is directly down the hall from your new dormitories."

"Now, will you please group by house, so I can tell you your new passwords, and then you may be on your way." No one really moved, as most of the students were already seated with their own house. Professor McGonagall moved through them quickly and efficiently whispering the password in each prefect's ear. When they were all done, she dismissed them with a wave of her hand, but motioned for Hermione and Malfoy to stay back.

When the last of the prefects had filed out, she turned to them and said, "Now, Granger, Malfoy, I know given your past history sharing a common room may be difficult, but I hope you are both mature enough not to cause any trouble," she glared at them both for a second. "Mr. Malfoy, as you are already aware of the special conditions surrounding yourself, I shall not detain you any longer. You may return to your cabin. Miss Granger, I will speak with you for a moment."

Malfoy slowly walked along the length of the car. He didn't seem to be in any particular hurry. Professor McGonagall turned back to Hermione. "Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy is here on parole from Azkaban." She eyed Hermione's expression for a second before continuing, "He has been given complete freedom to move around the castle, but on any Hogsmeade trips, I'm afraid I must ask you to accompany him. You need not follow him like a lapdog inside each shop, simply escort him from building to building, and wait by the door. I'm sorry to cut into your time like this, but the only other option was a full compliment of aurors, and that would be an entirely different level of difficult."

"It's alright, Professor," Hermione said in conciliation, "I really didn't do that much on Hogsmeade trips anyway, and I'm sure I can convince Malfoy to make a few side trips if I really do need something."

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I'm glad to see you're taking this well," she said, "I was anxious about cutting into your leisure time, but I'm glad you have no objections. That should be everything, now. You can go, Miss Granger."

Hermione _was_ apprehensive about having to spend more time with Malfoy, on top of how much time they'd already be together because of Head duties and their living conditions, but Professor McGonagall had looked so relieved at her lack of objections that she couldn't find it in her heart to put up a fuss now. She just nodded mutely, and walked towards the door.

**A/N: ****Sorry, but once again, I went with the cliches on Draco's appearance (tall, muscular, etc). Next chapter should be from Draco's viewpoint, and will have more cliches, don't worry.**

**Thanks again to Scarbrow for agreeing with me. I took his advice and removed the last paragraph that was conspicuously out of character for Hermione. I'll have to just tweak the start of Chapter 7, but it _is_ better this way.  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So, it's the next chapter. The first real exchange between the two main characters. At chapter 7? Well, each chapter is really only one scene, so... Hmmm... when you're typing the whole thing in one word document, it's hard to judge how long it will be in terms of average chapter length on this site. I may have to increase the chapter lengths... If I do, I'll probably come back and lengthen these first few chapters, or maybe just combine them.  
**

Draco looked down at the mudblood in the corridor just behind the prefects car. He wondered when she got so damn attractive. Gone was the bookish little schoolgirl, and in her place, a decidedly more curvy Granger had decided to appear. He was glad she wasn't wearing the robes over the rest of her uniform; it gave him a better view. He mentally shook himself; even her body found ways to annoy him. It was really quite phenomenal how she managed to irritate him even with her appearance. And entirely unconsciously, as well.

"So, Granger," he said, "This is going to be an interesting year, isn't it?"

"Well," she replied, "Interesting is one way of putting it. Just remember, we're equals now, so don't even think to try and order me around."

He laughed at the absurd notion. "We're equals?" he asked, incredulous. "We will never be equals, Granger. I am a pureblood, unlike you, you little mudblood." He made his voice sound much more threatening, looming over her. "Now run along back to Potter, and get your filth out of my sight." And that should take care of that. He turned away, wondering when the trolley would be coming. He had missed breakfast.

He stopped at a pressure on his robes. He turned back to find Granger had seized a fistful and refused to let go. "What's the problem now, Granger?" he asked exasperatedly.

"You are," she said, with fire in her eyes. "I don't know where you get your delusions from, especially now, Malfoy, but in case you haven't noticed, your side lost. You and all of your little Death Eater friends were beaten, and while you may have managed to weasel your way out of prison, everything you stood for is gone. So how does that feel?"

She obviously expected this scathing reply to hurt him. She just didn't get it. He hadn't been a Death Eater willingly. With his family imprisoned by the Dark Lord, the only thing he could have done that wouldn't end in their death was to follow orders. He had sort of hoped, somewhere in the back of his mind, that maybe at least the altruistic Gryffindor princess would have been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. But, it appeared that she was just as biased against him as the rest of the world was; and so, he got a little bit angry (just a little bit).

"Look Granger," he said darkly, getting right up in her face, "First of all, it's not 'My side' versus 'Your side' as you put it. It never was. It was their side, and your side, with me stuck in the middle. My family was imprisoned, under threat of death, and I received the Dark Mark at wandpoint." He took a menacing step forward. He probably shouldn't be saying this much, but once he started, it all came pouring out in a stream of anger and resentment. "When I failed to kill Dumbledore, I was tortured by the Dark Lord himself with the cruciatus curse for two days with my demented aunt laughing her head off during each session, and when he was done, she added her own sectumsempra to the mix." He pulled the left sleeve of his shirt up above the bicep, exposing deep scars that he knew continued in an arc across his chest and down his stomach, ending (mercifully) right above his groin. He took another step forward, forcing her to back up against the wall in the corridor. "I never actually committed any crimes while I was serving, and yet I was imprisoned for two months, and face the possibility of another stay at Azkaban of 'indeterminate length' if I set one toe out of line at school this year. So you tell me, Granger, how do you _think_ it feels?"

He had said much, _much_ more than he intended to, but was too angry to care, worked up by recounting just a small part of the anger and injustice that he felt.

He looked down at her, seeing her face for the first time since he started his rant. He had been looking at her, but not seeing her, as his mind was cast back into his memories. She looked scared_, _but slightly pitying?_  
_

He looked at her face again, and the pity was gone, but so was the fear. Instead it was all replaced by a hard, angry look.

She got back in his face and said, "Look, Malfoy, I don't know half of what happened to you, but I do know that nobody on 'My side' had anything to do with it. So why the _hell_ are you blaming any of us for it?" She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back a step, bracing one foot against the wall for leverage. "It sounds to me," she continued vehemently, "like the only ones you have to blame are the Death Eaters, so from the start, it seems like we know the side you _should_ be on is ours. If that's true, then you've had a funny way of showing it so far. So watch your step this year, or I may make a less than satisfactory report McGonagall at the end of the year, and you'll be seeing your cell in Azkaban again before you know it."

By the end of _her_ rant, she was standing on her tiptoes, nearly his height, their faces inches apart. Her cheeks were flushed with the intensity of her emotion, yet neither of their rants had reached more than a conversational volume, as most of their speaking had been conducted in dark undertones. They looked at each other for second, silver eyes studying brown, and visa-versa. Finally, he simply said, "Well, it looks like it wasn't just Weaselette that grew teeth over the summer," and walked away nonchalantly, as if they had exchanged no more than their usual insults.

_Well, at least I ended it well. The rest of it wasn't too smooth, though. Spilling out your innermost feelings to a person with whom you've shared a mutual hatred for seven years is not exactly the best thing to do before term has even started. _

He shouldered his way past a couple of first years; his compartment was at the back of the train.

He had a feeling she wouldn't tell anyone about their exchange, though. He knew he wouldn't. Not even Blaise, who had been his friend since they were little. Somehow, even though he had been the only one to say anything really secret, the exchange seemed a little too deep to be counted as the usual swapping of insults. It was almost personal.

_Huh. Imagine that. An exchange with Granger that was too personal to share. Now _that_ was a new experience.__  
_

She _had_ given him some things to think about, though.

He growled angrily as he stepped over a third year girl whose trunk had fallen across the hallway as she had tried to get her robes out to change.

If he wasn't on the Death Eater's side (and he obviously was _not_), then whose side _was_ he on? Could she be right? Could his viewpoint really be that similar to theirs? The thought of agreeing with the Golden Trio on anything made his stomach clench, but he had to admit, the mudblood made a good point.

He told himself he would have reached that conclusion eventually, and there was no way she could have thought of something he never would have, but in the back of his mind, he wondered. If he found the thought of sharing an ideal with them distasteful now that it had been pointed out to him, would he have even entertained the idea within his own mind?

As he finally stepped into his cabin in the last car of the train, he realized that it disturbed him Granger had been able to cause him this much introspection from such a short conversation. Living with her was going to be… what was the word? … ah yes: _interesting_.

**A/N: Ok, this turned out a bit different then I was intending. The story is kind of writing itself. I hope it knows what it's doing, 'cause _I_ certainly have no idea what I'm doing. Read, Review, Recieve Rewards. HA! I knew I'd figure out a word.  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Well, here's Chapter 8. It started out being at least twice as long, but I decided that even if the chapters are short, I'd like to keep them all the same/similar length, so I split it into two chapters. Consequentially, both this and Chapter 9 will be from Hermione's POV. I told you earlier I wasn't going to stick to a strict alternating pattern of viewpoints, though I probably will for most of the fic, unless something like this happens again. Enjoy it anyway (that's an order).**

"So," Harry asked as Hermione walked back into their compartment, "How did it go?"

Hermione, preoccupied with her own thoughts, didn't answer for a second, and then said distractedly, "Oh, you know, the usual," and sat down.

Harry smiled slightly, "No, I don't know. I've never been to a prefect's meeting, because I wasn't a prefect last year. And besides, Ron said McGonagall wanted to talk to you about Malfoy."

Hermione glanced at Ron, who was still pointedly ignoring her.

"So what did she say?" Harry asked, looking at Hermione.

"Well, apparently Malfoy has been let out of Azkaban on parole," she said, shifting her attention back to Harry. "He's given free reign of the school, but if he wants go on one of the Hogsmeade weekends, I have to escort him." Harry looked at her, surprise and pity evident on his face. Hermione shrugged, "Apparently it was either that, or a full compliment of aurors be housed at the school, and you can imagine the trouble that would be."

"No," Harry said, confused, "I can't think of any problems it could cause."

"Well," Hermione said, "Think about it. Aurors are dark wizard catchers, and there are still plenty of Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters at large. How would the aurors feel being shut up at a school, not participating in the hunt at all, while their friends and colleagues were out there fighting, and the only reason they couldn't help them was so they could escort one belligerent schoolboy on weekend shopping trips once a month?" She looked at him pointedly for a second, before continuing. "And now think about how people in that situation might act, and consider the fact that they're at a school."

Harry paused for a second, looking thoughtful, and no doubt imagining depressed aurors rampaging around the school in a drunken rage. "Yeah," he said, "I guess I didn't think of it that way. Trust McGonagall to realize that."

Hermione smiled. McGonagall had told her no such thing, but she had figured that must be at least part of the reason.

They lapsed back into companionable silence, only made mildly awkward by Ron's presence. Hermione had learned to deal with it by extending Ginny's advice to ignore his insults to cover his general existence. She no longer acknowledged his presence, and it was working quite well for her. She discovered that she really didn't need his friendship, and would be perfectly fine if he never tried to repair their relationship. Of course, she hoped he would, if only to make it easier for Harry, who once again was best friends to two people who hated each other with a passion.

The only person whom Hermione could imagine disliking as much as Ron was Malfoy.

_Hmmmmmm…. Malfoy…_ Hermione's thoughts strayed back to her fellow Head, and their conversation outside the prefect's car. She never knew his side of the story, but she had gotten a glimpse of it during his rant. She had seen a scared teenager, forced to cooperate with the Death Eaters by the threat of violence against his family. It certainly was trademark Voldemort, and a despicable thing to do, even to someone as malicious as Draco Malfoy.

Even as Hermione thought that, she realized that in all of their interactions, he _had_ been cold and insulting; it was his trademark. He had even hurt her badly a few times. But, he would never measure up to Voldemort's level of cruelty, or even the level of the Death Eaters, who willingly and avidly carried out their lord's every whim.

Malfoy may have been a despicable bully, but that's really all he ever was, a schoolboy bully, and people grow out of that (though Hermione was a little skeptical about Malfoy's ability to do so). Hermione hoped that he would, if only because it would make sharing a common room with him easier.

She had never really been bothered by him calling her mudblood, beaver-teeth, or any other of the myriad of derogatory names he had for her. His verbal jabs _had_ actually driven her to tears a few times, but she certainly wouldn't hold it against him _too_ much, if he proved entirely willing to start over. Of course, if he reverted back to his old ways, then she'd use that past torturing as justification for anything she did to him. And boy she had some good ideas, having been hanging around Fred and George for seven years.

These thoughts occupied her for a good part of the ride to Hogwarts, as she alternated staring blankly at a book and staring out the window. For the first time since awkward first years meeting strangers, there was little conversation in their compartment.

Harry tried weakly to engage Ron in conversation, but it inevitably petered out after a few awkward comments, as Ron refused to even talk too much in front of Hermione. He replied with as few words as possible, and grunted whenever he could. She was too busy thinking, and Harry didn't even bother trying to engage her in conversation as he saw the book and realized that she wouldn't be answering anyway.

They changed into their school robes in silence, and walked off the train in silence as well. They all climbed into the same carriage, more out of force of habit than any real desire to be with each other. Hermione sensed that Harry was getting fed up with Hermione and Ron's refusal to speak, and she wished that she could console him somehow. Ginny reappeared just as they got onto the carriage, having left a little while after Hermione returned in order to catch up with some friends from her own year she hadn't seen all summer.

"Hey, guys," she said, climbing into the carriage. She sensed the mood immediately, looking from Hermione's carefully blank look to Ron's permanently unhappy expression to Harry's annoyance as he glared at the other two. Ginny had the tact not to say anything else, and simply held hands with Harry for the duration of the ride.

After the sorting, Harry and Ron sat on one side of the Gryffindor house table, while Ginny and Hermione sat on the other side. Each pair had whispered conversations. Hermione distinctly heard Harry say at one point, "Ron, you're being a stubborn git, and it's not helping any!"

Towards the end of dinner, Ginny began wondering about the exact density of Ron's skull, to which Hermione replied by saying, "It must be quite extraordinarily dense. Much more solid than iron. If he gets hit by a bludger, you can bet it's not his head that cracks." She hadn't bothered to keep her voice down, and Ron shot her a venomous look across the table before replying with an insult of his own.

"My head may be thick, _Hermione,_" he spat her name out like a rotten fruit, "But even I managed to get basic grooming skills pounded into my skull eventually. Looked in a mirror recently, bush-head?"

It was the first time he had directly addressed her since they broke up a month ago, and she was so shocked at what he said that she felt tears spring to her eyes immediately. Not that it was particularly mean; she had endured much worse from Malfoy in previous years. But that was the problem: Ron's mouth was moving, yet Malfoy's words were coming out.

She heard both Ginny and Harry start yelling at Ron, but she only heard it distantly, as she had already gotten up and began to walk quickly out of the Great Hall, letting her hair hang around her face to disguise her tears.

She walked through the halls with no specific destination in mind, and when she looked up, she found herself at the top of the Astronomy Tower, looking out over the grounds. By this point, she had dried her eyes and wiped her nose, and the only evidence of her crying was her red eyes and wet handkerchief (which she promptly vanished). She was still wrapped up in her thoughts, though, and didn't see that there was already someone in the tower.

**A/N: Ooh, I wonder who it could be? ... **

**Barely any dialogue in this chapter. I think the amount of dialogue I put in depends on my mood. If I feel like talking a lot, then I'll use a lot of narration, because it's MY voice. If I don't feel like talking, or I'm tired, then I'll let the characters do the explaining. **

**Since I have the next chapter written already (see top note for explanation) I may post it tonight as well. Maybe not. If it's not up in 1 hr, I'm not posting it tonight.**

**Oh, yeah: Read, Review, etc... No candy this time, sorry. I ate it all a couple of days ago. And I'm keeping the ravioli, too, EmiliaKingsley, so don't worry. ;-)  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: And Chapter 9. Here it is, tonight, as promised. Like I said, it was already written, so I decided to post it here, even though I usually do 1 a day.**

He was halfway around from where she was, leaning up against the railing, staring out at the world, with his school robes flapping in the breeze. It was the sound of the fabric snapping in the wind that first alerted her to his presence. She walked around the perimeter, curious as to whom it could be. Everyone else should have been at the feast.

She stopped behind him. He was facing outwards, leaning against the railing, but straightened up at the sound of her footsteps. He didn't turn around, though.

The wind, which had been blowing steadily when she first climbed the stairs, suddenly died down to nothing.

"Why are you up here during the feast?" she asked, in a whisper. Something about the sudden stillness made her not want to talk too loudly.

Evidently the mysterious person in front of her shared her sentiment, because he whispered back without turning around, "I could ask you the same question."

She snorted quietly, "First day of term, and I've already got problems with my friends."

He chuckled lowly, "Seems we're in the same boat. What sort of problems have you got?" he asked. Then, seeming to realize it was a pretty personal thing to be inquiring of someone you just met, he added, "If you don't mind me asking."

She smiled. Something about him seemed immediately trustable, and plus, he didn't know who she was. What was there to loose? "Well, I was always really close with these two guys." She didn't want to say it was Harry and Ron, because that would have been a dead giveaway as to who she was. "I'm not telling you who they are, but let's call them Stag and Weasel." She chose Harry's name from his patronus shape, which surprisingly was still not well known, and Ron's she chose from Malfoy's traditional insult to him.

"Now," she continued, whispering the whole time, "Weasel and I started dating at the end of last year, but we broke up about a month ago. Both Stag and I were staying at Weasel's house. It was awkward, because both Weasel and I are still friends with Stag, but won't talk to each other."

"It does seem like an awkward situation," the man in front of her said. Though they were whispering, she could tell the voice was definitely masculine. "But that doesn't explain tonight. Did it get too much for you sitting with them at dinner?"

She sighed, "Yeah, I guess so. But what really got me up here was something Weasel said. It was just so out of character. It sounds more like something Ferret would say." She was referring to Malfoy, forgetting for a second that the man in front of her wouldn't know that.

He jumped at the name. "Ferret?" he asked. "Who's that?"

"Oh," she said, "He's another guy, from a different house, who used to always insult the three of us, though especially me." She peered closely at his back. His stance still seemed tense. "What's up?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing," he said, and waved his hand, "I just never really liked Ferrets. I had a bad experience in fourth year. Carry on with your story."

"Well," Hermione continued, "What Weasel said to me sounded exactly like the type of thing Ferret used to say to insult me."

The mysterious figure sighed in sympathy, and said simply, "Well, sounds like their both jerks."

"Yeah," she agreed, and laughed slightly, looking down. After a second, she looked back up at his back. "So that's my story; boy trouble. What's your story?"

"Girl trouble," the he said, and chuckled. "See, there's this girl. Let's call her… Pug." Hermione smiled at this. Obviously he didn't like whoever this girl was.

"Now Pug's parents and mine go way back. They have a very old connection that they're very proud of. There aren't many families that have the same connection, though all the ones that do know each other pretty well. Anyway, our parents all decided that it would be nice if Pug and I got married." His tone, and a slight emphasis on the word "parents," made it very clear that he was not in agreement with them on this decision.

"Unfortunately," he continued, "Pug is the most clingy, annoying, detestable, woman who ever walked the face of the earth. So, when she found out we were destined to be married, she insisted that we immediately start dating, instead of letting me enjoy my last few years of freedom." Hermione winced in sympathy, even though he was facing away. If it weren't for the fact that he was being nice, she would think he was talking about Parkinson. Obviously Pansy's parent would never set her up with anyone but a Slytherin, though, an the mystery man was being too nice to be a Slytherin. Thus, not Pansy.

He continued his story, saying, "She followed me everywhere, and laughed at jokes that literally no one thought was funny, simply because I was the one who said them. I always managed to avoid her over the holidays, but when I come back to school, she's there again, stuck to my elbow like glue." Even though he was whispering, he still managed to convey a feeling of derision. He really didn't like this "Pug" person.

"So you came up here to escape from her at dinner?" Hermione asked.

The figure in front of her shrugged, silhouetted against the now rising moon. "Yeah. That and the full moon always makes me restless." He gestured to the silver orb in front of them; it was a little above the railing now, about level with his head. He continued speaking, "I lost my appetite the moment Pug appeared anyway, and if I want anything, I'm on good terms with the house elves, so I can go down and get some food later."

At this, Hermione breathed in sharply. "What do you mean by 'on good terms with the house elves'?" Some unexpected anger crept into her voice now, because she remembered how S.P.E.W. had failed rather badly, and because just talking about elves reminded her of Ron. "Elves clambering over themselves to give you food is, sadly, their normal mode of greeting." Even she was surprised by how bitter she sounded.

"I know," he said, "We used to have a house elf, before we freed him." He paused for a second. He was still whispering; their entire conversation had been carried out in whispers. "You don't sound much like the Hermione Granger _I_ know."

Then, having revealed he knew who she was, he turned around. The full moon, unusually large this night, was right behind his head, and the contrast between the silver light and his dark face was too much for her to make out any features. All she could see was the outline of his hair, and that wasn't very helpful. She still didn't know who he was.

Hermione laughed. So much for secrecy (on her part anyway). "Well," she said at a volume closer to normal, "I guess the Hermione you know is still on holiday. I don't know if she'll come back anytime soon."

The man in front of her smiled. She couldn't really see it, but she could sort of… _sense_ it.

"Well," he said, still whispering, "That's too bad. I kind of liked the old version." He paused, "Though I suppose I _could_ get used to the new one." He sounded thoughtful, as if he was surprised by the comment, and it was actually something he seriously needed to think about. She smiled at the thought.

Seized by a sudden impulse, she stood up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. He had just started to turn his head, though, to look at his watch, and so instead of his cheek, she ended up kissing him full on the lips. She felt a spark the moment they touched, and heat spread throughout her body as his warm lips met hers. She was too shocked to even react for a few seconds, and it seemed like the stranger was even more shocked than she was.

Then her mind caught up with her. She blushed furiously and took a step back. Neither of them said anything. She started to say something to explain, but then decided against it.

Instead, her spirit somehow strangely bolstered by that unintentional and very embarrassing kiss, she went for a different sort of exit then she would normally make in this sort of situation (not that she made a habit of kissing complete strangers). Instead of running away like a frightened schoolgirl, she grinned and winked at the mysterious man. Then she turned on her heel and walked off, reining in her stride to make sure it didn't look like an escape attempt, but as if the entire thing had been planned.

Under the circumstances, she thought she did pretty well. She obviously did something right, because the man didn't follow her. Either that or he was still in shock. She knew _her _mind wouldn't work for a while after this.

She walked down the steps of the tower, and once she was sure she was out of earshot of the top, she increased her pace.

She'd have to figure out who the mysterious man was… Maybe she could ask Parvati for help. She knew half the guys in the school, if only because she ranked them by their "hotness level." Having never seen the mysterious person's face, Hermione had a feeling that identifying him would be pretty hard for Parvati, but it was worth a shot.

**A/N: Ok, so I know I went a little out of character there (is that what OC stands for? or OOC? I could never figure that out) but don't kill me, 'cause I don't think it's _too_ far out of character. You still don't know if the mysterious character on the roof is Draco or not. Heck, _I_ haven't decided if it's Draco or not... Ok, fine it _is_ Draco. It's actually pretty obvious. I wonder if I should make it more subtle? Review and tell me!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: And this is Chapter 10. Yay! Never thought I'd even get this far. Dialogue distribution's a bit weird; barely any in the beginning, and a little heavy at the end. Enjoy anyway. Thanks to Scarbrow for some plot suggestions. (Seriously, sorry about the mispelling).  
**

Draco Malfoy walked down the halls, deep in thought. In fact, he was so deep in thought that he forgot to jump a trick stair and his left leg sunk in up to his thigh.

He swore, and tugged on his leg. Normally he would be able to just pull himself out, but of course he fell into the only trick stair that not only collapsed when you put pressure on it, but also grabbed onto your leg. It put just enough pressure that you couldn't pull it out yourself, but not enough that it would break bones. It would, however, leave some lovely bruises.

Bruises were the least of his problems, though. Dinner was still going on, so there was no way anyone could come to help him out. He also didn't particularly _want_ anyone to help him, but he was smart enough to admit when he needed assistance. He hoped someone would come along and help him out, but only one person, so he could threaten them not to tell anyone.

_Well,_ he thought, _Sitting here wishing for help isn't going to get me anywhere._ And so, he swallowed his pride, and called out, "Hey, anyone there? I need a hand over here!"

After a few minutes, he gave it up. About a half an hour later, he was getting worried. Soon dinner would break up, and a wave of people would come to find him, the Head Boy, stuck in a trick stair that even Neville Longbottom managed to avoid at this point.

Then, he heard faint footsteps, and called out again. "Hey! Hello! Get over here!"

He heard the footsteps increase in pace, and get closer. He sighed in relief; he wouldn't be stuck here for the school to find and ridicule.

He saw someone round the corner at the foot of the stairs, and sighed resignedly when he saw the Hufflepuff colors. _Great. Well, stupid help is better than no help._

He waved the Hufflepuff over. "Hey, come give me a hand with this," he said, gesturing to his trapped leg.

The Hufflepuff held out his hand, and Malfoy grabbed it. They both pulled hard. "This stair is bloody friendly," the Hufflepuff said, "It doesn't want to let go."

"Tell me about it," Malfoy grunted.

They both jerked hard at the same time, and his leg finally came free, both of them loosing their balance and falling a couple of steps down.

They both stood up, and only then did Malfoy realize exactly how large the student in front of him was. He was easily three inches taller than Malfoy, and had much wider shoulders. This was saying something, as Malfoy was six-two, and though lean, was still very muscular.

The Hufflepuff dusted himself off and stuck out his hand, saying, "James Archer, nice to meet you. My friends call me Archer, or Archie if you like."

Malfoy just looked at the hand for a second, and then glared back into his face. "Draco Malfoy," he said finally, ignoring the hand still, "Head Boy. And if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I swear I will make that bloody yellow tie of yours into a noose and hang you from the rafters in the Great Hall with it."

Archer took a step back, surprised by the intensity in Malfoy's voice. "Alright, mate," he said, sounding uneasy, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone…" His voice trailed off awkwardly. Malfoy kept glaring at him for another few seconds, then turned on his heel and walked back up the steps, remembering to jump the trick stair this time.

He stalked down the halls, deep in thought again. He reflexively checked his watch.

_Crap_, he thought, _I'd better hurry up. I don't know where the head dormitory is, and I'll probably have to find Granger or Professor McGonagall to get the password._

He began walking back towards the Great Hall. As he reached the open doors, however, it was very apparent that the feast was already breaking up. He was glad; it meant he wouldn't have to deal with Pansy at the Slytherin table. He saw Granger and Professor McGonagall talking at the teacher's table at the front of the hall, and made his way towards them.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Professor McGonagall said, "How good of you to join us. I was just about to take Miss Granger to the Head dormitories, if you would care to join us."

He nodded simply; his mind was occupied.

They left the great hall but surprisingly only went up one floor. They turned down a corridor that Malfoy knew for a fact held only unused classrooms, and a few paintings. They stopped in front of a large picture of a small cozy-looking room with a pair of armchairs, a coffee table between them, and a fireplace in front of them. It was a view from the left of the room, with the chairs on the right facing inward towards the other objects. The frame stretched from about chest height to the ground, due to the fact that it was hung underneath a torch bracket. The painting seemed to be momentarily vacated by its occupants. McGonagall turned to the two Heads.

"This portrait is the entrance to your dormitory," she said, looking at them with the air of someone imparting a great secret.

"Oh," Hermione said, "What's the password? And doesn't there have to be a guardian to let us in?" Draco had no idea what she was talking about. It was rather obvious to him that the painting was a picture of the common room they would be sharing.

He reached out to touch the picture, and as he expected, his hand sank straight through the canvas as if it wasn't there at all. He didn't know what rubbish Granger was talking about with guardians.

Professor McGonagall gestured to him, "Mr. Malfoy seems to have gotten the idea. Go in and look around."

Malfoy smirked at her; he had figured out something she hadn't. He ducked through the painting, and noticed that the surface was cool and almost wet feeling, as if he was walking through a veil of mist. He was immediately followed by Granger and then Professor McGonagall, clutching onto the back of Granger's robes.

"But," Granger said, sounding confused, "What's to stop just anyone from entering?"

"Well," the professor said, "First there's the fact that even if they knew this painting was the entrance, most people would assume as you did that it operated the way the Gryffindor portrait hole did." Hermione nodded in agreement. She had unconsciously slipped into the attitude she displayed when she was in class. Well, she _was_ learning something, but still… Malfoy sighed. She was hopeless.

McGonagall continued with her explanation, saying, "There's also the fact that only the Heads may enter this room with impunity; even professors have to be escorted in. The only reason I was allowed in just now without you having to specifically give permission was because I was holding on to your robes, Miss Granger. Coincidentally, if you wish to bring someone other than a Head or teacher in, that is how you would go about it. You do not need to accompany them on their way out, though." She paused for a second, and then continued in a more severe, lecturing tone, "I would hope that you will exercise good judgment, however, in whom you allow inside. After all, you are Head Boy and Girl, and are expected to set an example to the rest of the world."

Draco noticed that this comment seemed to be directed particularly at him, and just shrugged in response.

"Well," McGonagall said, "Get comfortable. Your Head duties will not start for another two days; enjoy the break." With that, she turned towards the entrance. There was a picture in the exact same frame and position as the one they had entered through, except this one displayed the hallway they had just left. She crouched and walked through, and they saw her straighten up on the other side, smooth her robes, and walk away.

"Hmmmm…" Hermione observed the painting closely. "I wonder if someone on the outside can see us in the picture."

Malfoy stared thoughtfully; he hadn't thought of that. "I'll go check. Do something," he said, and smirked as he walked towards the picture.

"What do you mean, 'do something'?" she asked. "What am I supposed to do?" She glared at him.

"I don't know," he said, exasperatedly, "Do something… interesting." He walked through the picture, and turned around. He saw Granger standing in the room. She snorted and rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips, looking at him expectantly. He ducked back inside, and said, "Well, you look like the same annoying know it all from the outside."

"Well," she said, "That'll be annoying."

"Ah, there you're wrong," Malfoy said. "I doubt I'll be spending much quality time in the common room with a mudblood," he shuddered, dramatically; she rolled her eyes. "Besides," he continued, "Our bedrooms and bathroom are obviously not on display for the general public. _And_, no one actually comes down this corridor; the classrooms are all unused."

She started to nod, but then she stopped suddenly, and said, "Remember what McGonagall said on the train, about the prefect's meeting room?" Draco thought back, staring into space for a few seconds.

"Wait," he said, looking back at her, "She said that it was right down the hall from the Head's dormitory, in an unused classroom."

She nodded at him, "And what are all the rooms in this hallway?"

"Ah," he said, "Unused classrooms." He sighed, then said, "You may have a point, Granger, but that still doesn't change the fact that they can't get in without our permission. There's only so much they can do to annoy us from the outside."

She gave him a wry smile. That simple smile confused him; had he just been nice to Granger? He thought back on the conversation… Sure he had called her mudblood, but only once, and without any real venom… Uh-oh. He couldn't have her thinking he was being _nice_ to her. _Quick_, he thought, _What's the easiest and simplest way to insult her right now?_

He thought for another few seconds then, looked back at her. She was still looking at him. "What, are you waiting for, mudblood," he said derisively, "A house elf to suddenly jump out and announce it wants to be freed? Well, guess what, _Granger_," he practically spat her name out, "They don't want to be freed."

_That was good_. He knew she was still sore about her stupid spew thing not working out. This ought to be a good reaction.

He looked at her expectantly, but she just stared at him for a few seconds, before saying abruptly, "Well, I'm off to bed."

She turned and walked quickly towards the back wall. There were three doors; she took the right one. He followed her lead, and took the left one. He assumed the center door lead to their shared bathroom.

He flopped down onto the four poster bed in his room, and looked around. There was a wardrobe across from the bed, and a window between them. Under the window was a small bedside table with a lamp sitting on it. There was an oval shaped rug between the bed and wardrobe. His trunk was at the foot of the bed.

_Well,_ he thought, _It's better than what I had in the Slytherin dorms, anyway. And Pansy can't get to me here, which is a definite plus. _

He unpacked his clothes, and put them into the wardrobe. Then he left his room, and went to go take a quick shower before bed.

**A/N: I know, it's an anticlimactic way to end the chapter. But hey, it's late, and I can assure you, the next chapter will be very interesting. And if you're thinking it has something to do with the shower Draco's about to take, then get your mind out of the gutter ('cause you're standing on my head)!**

**A/N: (Update) Ok, so after rereading this today, I realized I was kind of out of it last night, and completely forgot to make Draco be mean to Hermione. So, if any of you reviewed saying something about that (I haven't even checked yet) then don't worry, it is fixed. Sorry if you got a notification and got excited 'cause you thought there was a new chapter. Chapter 11 will be up soon, don't worry.  
**


	11. ANNOUNCEMENT sorry, not a chapter

**ATTENTION DEVOTED READERS AND OTHER RANDOM PEOPLE WHO DON'T ACTUALLY LIKE ME!**

**This is not an update, this is a notice: my internet seems to hate me right now, so until we figure out what's wrong, I will be on an involuntary hiatus. I will try to update by bringing chapters on a flashdrive to public computers at libraries, and uploading from there, but it won't be as consistent. If I get another connection from home, I will also try uploading then, but I can't promise anything. At the moment, this is the longest I've been able to connect for a few days (about 20 min), and I don't know how long this will last. I'm also busy trying to fix my schedule for school (it starts Monday, and I haven't even **_**gotten**_** a schedule yet), so I unfortunately cannot devote **_**all**_** of my time to you guys, even though I want to.**

** Sorry again for the problems, and know that I still appreciate all of you.**

** -Nova94**


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N: Ok, my internet connection is working, though I don't know for how long. Apparently in the rain a few days ago, a branch came down and hit a cable (my internet is from the cable provider). It didn't break it, but it did loosen the connection, so they have to go check every single inch of the cable between the substation two miles away, and my house. Thankfully, they're doing it fast, and my internet should be back up normally in about two days.**

Hermione kicked her bed in anger. She and Malfoy had actually been having a (relatively) nice conversation for once, and then right at the end he went and ruined it. _I suppose that's just how he is_, she thought.

She didn't know why it annoyed her so much anyway; she _knew_ he was an insufferable git, and she had expected hostility. She supposed that she was disappointed because it had seemed like they would be able to be, if not nice, at least civil towards each other.

_But then again, _she thought, _If he was nice, he wouldn't be Draco Malfoy._ _I can't think of anyone who's worse than him. Well, maybe Ron._

But as her thoughts drifted to Ron, they didn't dwell on their breakup or even on his insult to her earlier. She remembered all those summer days with Ron and Harry that they spent at the burrow; laughing, reading, their disastrous attempt at teaching her quidditch (which ended about a minute after it began). All her memories of their good times flashed through her head.

_I wonder when it all went wrong._ Her immediate thought was the breakup, but somehow it didn't seem like that was the real turning point. Afterwards, she and Ron had been able to exist together (albeit awkwardly), and were working towards removing some of the awkwardness. _When did that progress stop?_

Sudden thoughts came to her mind, unbidden; a series of moments flashed behind her eyes. She remembered Ron's insult in Diagon Alley, and how much it had hurt. She remembered Ginny's advice afterwards. She had told Hermione to ignore Ron whenever he started to insult her. Hermione's thoughts wandered over the gap between that moment and the current one, and she realized that at some point along the line she had taken Ginny's advice a step farther. Instead of ignoring his insults and acting normally, she began to ignore him altogether. And while it was arguable that Ron deserved some of it, she also realized that that was no way to mend a relationship. In fact, it was probably what had widened the rift that their breakup had caused in the first place.

Hermione sat back on her bed in shock. This was _her_ fault. She had been blaming Ron the entire time for insulting her, but really, _she_ was the one that had walled _him_ off. Of _course_ he would insult her right after they broke up; he was angry, and he always lashed out when he was angry. And he insulted her tonight because she had been giving him the cold shoulder for weeks.

She shook her head to clear it. How the heck was she going to let him know that she was sorry? She sighed. _I suppose I'll have to ask Harry for help, even if it's just so I can get Ron alone to talk to him._

Even as she thought this, a large part of her still screamed that she was completely in the right, and Ron was just being an arse and didn't deserve her friendship. She resolutely ignored that voice; she had to swallow her pride and apologize, because it was the only way to mend their friendship no matter _who_ was in the wrong.

She sighed again, and walked towards the door. She needed a nice, long, hot shower to clear her head. And plus she wanted to check out the bathroom.

She walked out of her door, and looked at the other two. Most likely, Malfoy's room was the one on the left, and the bathroom was the one in the middle.

She walked up to the door, and then realized she still had her shampoo and toiletries in her trunk. She turned around and went back into her room to get them. She came back out with everything wrapped up in a fluffy white towel to make it easy to carry, and opened the bathroom door to a rather… _interesting_ sight:

Draco Malfoy, completely naked.

Thankfully, he was facing the other way, so _some_ of his modesty was preserved. Of course, that didn't help, because everything was revealed anyway when he whirled around in surprise at her scream. (And boy did she scream. She would have been amazed at her volume, if her wits hadn't deserted her completely.)

He immediately grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, saying, "Granger, you scream louder than a bloody banshee. What are you doing in here?"

Despite his words, he seemed utterly unfazed by the fact that she had just seen him completely naked. Hermione on the other hand, thought her mind would never work again.

He was still waiting for an answer, and when one wasn't forthcoming, he said, "Honestly, Granger. From your reaction you'd think you'd never seen a naked man before."

She tried to say something, but it died in her throat as an incoherent mumble, and she immediately forgot what she was going to say anyway. Her hands were still in front of her face; they had flown there when she first walked in, and she couldn't make them go down. Her mind seemed to refuse to work. It wouldn't accept information, or send commands. It seemed to have shut down, perhaps permanently.

Malfoy looked at her surprised, "Dear god, Granger: Please tell me I'm not the first man you've seen naked." She didn't say anything. "Surely you and Weasley must have…"

She shook her head dumbly, hands still covering her face.

"Well then…" he said, "You should be honored. Not everyone is so fortunate to have a first that's as resplendently masculine as me." He smirked at her, flexing; he still seemed to find nothing at all awkward about the situation, and in fact, seemed to be enjoying himself at her expense.

That annoyed her, and that small spark of anger seemed enough to shock her into action. She could speak again, albeit in a very small, pathetic voice that was barely above a whisper.

All she said was, "I'm telling McGonagall we want a lock for this door tomorrow," and then she fled, to try to get the image of nude Malfoy out of her head.

The next day, neither of them mentioned it, though Malfoy did give her a much more self-satisfied smirk than normal when she walked out for breakfast. He was sitting in one of the armchairs, reading a book. That actually surprised her; she wouldn't have thought of him as the reading type.

Of course, when she stated this out loud, she worded it a bit differently.

"That's amazing Malfoy," she said scathingly, "I didn't know ferrets could read."

She didn't even wait for a reply, though out of the corner of her eye she could see the smirk drop off his face to be replaced by a look of anger. She just walked straight past him, through their portrait hole, and down to breakfast.

When she saw Ron sitting with Harry, she remembered that she was going to apologize to him today. It had completely slipped her mind after the night before. It seemed some of her thoughts had been knocked loose by the scarring images she had seen. She wouldn't be surprised if her IQ had dropped a few points as a result.

She sat down at the table, and greeted everyone.

"So, Hermione," Ginny said, "How did the first night with Malfoy as a roommate go?" Hermione immediately felt her cheeks flush deep red, and she tried to look down to cover it.

Ginny gasped; apparently her embarrassment was as obvious as it felt. "What happened, Hermione?" she asked excitedly.

"I do _not_ want to talk about it," Hermione said, coloring even more. Just _thinking_ about it, (not even picturing it, just the _idea_ of it) was embarrassing. How could she tell Ginny, especially in public where other people would hear?

Ginny looked at her, then said, "Look, if you don't want to say it here, come with me, I know a good spot where no one will disturb us." Hermione weighed her options. She _really_ didn't want to talk about it, but she also knew that she'd go mad if she _didn't_ talk about it.

So she agreed, and the two of them left the Great Hall. They went up one staircase, and down the hallway where the Head's dormitory was. Ginny pulled her into a random empty classroom, saying, "Not a single classroom in this hallway is used; literally nobody comes down here."

Hermione laughed slightly and said, "Well, not for long. The Head's dormitory is in this hallway, and soon, the prefects meeting room will be too."

Ginny's face fell, and Hermione laughed at that. Clearly the youngest Weasley didn't like the prospect of other people invading her secret place.

Ginny shook herself, and then said, "That's not why we're here, though. Tell me what happened between you and Malfoy that made you so embarrassed."

Hermione immediately colored again. She couldn't help it; it was a reflex action.

She looked at Ginny again, and could tell by her expression that she wouldn't be taking no for an answer. So, she steeled herself, and said, "Last night, I went to take a shower in our bathroom, but I found that Malfoy had already decided to do that, and I… er… saw… well…" she couldn't continue.

"You saw him naked?" Ginny asked, amazed.

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Well that's… awkward," Ginny said, after a moment.

Hermione sighed explosively and said, "Yeah, tell me about it."

"What's awkward, Granger?" came a voice from the door.

She jumped and squeaked in surprise, then immediately blushed again. _Honestly, who _squeaks_ when they're startled? That's just embarrassing…_

"Just go away, Malfoy," Ginny said, glaring at him. "Nobody wants you here."

He smirked and stepped inside the doorway instead.

"I have a reason to be here, though," he said, still smirking. "McGonagall told me at breakfast that this room will be the prefect's new meeting room. Granger and I are supposed to clear it out and get ready for a meeting with the prefects right after classes."

"And when are you supposed to do this?" Ginny asked, looking at her watch, "Classes start in five minutes."

"Actually," Hermione said reluctantly, "I've got first period free on Mondays."

"So do I," Malfoy said, "That's why the first meeting is today after classes, not tomorrow. We're supposed to get this room cleaned up during first period." He gave them a self-satisfied smirk, apparently happy even at having won that small little argument.

Ginny glanced at Hermione for confirmation. She nodded reluctantly; it seemed reasonable.

Ginny sighed, and then said, "Sorry, Hermione, but I have to get going. I've got Charms in three minutes, and that's halfway across the castle."

Hermione nodded and said in an undertone, "Don't worry, its fine. I can handle Malfoy."

Ginny nodded and left and Hermione turned to Malfoy. "Well," she said resignedly, "Let's get started then."

He just smirked at her and said, "Yes, let's."

**A/N: Not that happy w/this chapter. Did a bunch of rewrites (had plenty of free time) but it still just doesn't feel well-written. *Shrug* Idk. Tell me what you think. You know the drill: Review, and I will send you a short message saying "Thanks for your input," and it will make you feel special, because someone replied to your comment. (Jk, I really do appreciate all of it.)**


	13. Chapter 12

**A/N: Ok, internet SHOULD be fixed now, and I SHOULD be back to one post per day. This is the first time I've integrated a song into a chapter, so I'm not too sure how it is. Song is Monster, by Skillet. If you don't know them, you don't deserve to hear their awesomeness. And if you object to them just because they're a Christian band, then you don't deserve to live. SMITE! *lightning bolts, death, etc* (Honestly, though, they write their lyrics on purpose so they don't have a direct, literal, religious meaning. They can just be interpreted that way.)**

**After another insightful comment from Scar_brow _(there, I got it right this time) I rewrote this chapter. It really wasn't long enough, and it was hard to tell exactly what Hermione was feeling. Hopefully it's better.  
**

When the door closed behind Ginny, Malfoy sighed. _There goes the last buffer between me and Granger; another person. All bets are off now. _Now he smirked widely and said under his breath, "Let the games begin."

And so, while they began to clean the room, he kept up a never-ending tirade of insults. When she failed to successfully vanish a strange purple stain on a counter lining one side of the classroom, he said sarcastically, "Well, surprise surprise, there _is_ something the mudblood can't do. Never would have thought _that_ was possible." When she insisted on rattling off every single fact about cleaning spells she ever knew as a response, he said, "Granger, I would have thought that by the time you turned seventeen, you would have realized that no one likes a know-it-all mudblood."

Eventually she looked at him for a second, then said, "Malfoy, no one likes an opinionated ferret. Especially an unoriginal, immature, opinionated ferret. So shut up and grow up, at least until you get some new material." Her tone turned patronizing. "When that happens, maybe you can play with the big boys again! Won't that be fun? Maybe you can pull your wand out of your arse and be useful for once." Now she just sounded angry. "Use your brain cells, if you have any, for something other than insults, and _start cleaning!_"

Having finished, she turned back around, a little red in the face, and continued her attempts to clean the strangely resilient stain on the counter in front of her, ignoring the fact that in her anger all she was doing was adding burn marks.

Malfoy meanwhile, was frozen in place. It wasn't the insult that stunned him; he'd heard much worse, even from Granger, in the past. What shocked him was the offhand manner in which she simply threw the entire rant at him. Well, in the beginning anyway. By the end, she was genuinely angry.

He cautiously returned to work, no longer spewing insults.

Hermione was just as shocked as Malfoy was. _What was that? Why did I explode like that at the end? It's just Malfoy, why did I get so angry?_

She steadied herself, and returned to her work, now trying to remember the charm to remove scorch marks, as she seemed to have created quite a few in her anger. That wasn't good; if her spells were starting to go awry then she must be _really_ angry…

She was reminded of a song she had heard over the summer, while in the muggle world. She almost laughed at the irony of a muggle song applying so well to her own situation.

_The secret side of me, I never let you see,_

_I keep it caged but I can't control it,_

_So stay away from me, the beast is ugly,_

_I feel the rage and I just can't hold it._

Malfoy reined himself in for the next quarter of an hour, but finally he couldn't hold it in any longer, and said, "Granger, how long is this going to take? I, unlike you, have a social life, and would like to use my free period for something constructive. I have no doubt that you're _dying_ over there, since you can't be in the library researching obscure facts that no one cares about."

_It's scratching on the walls, in the closet, in the halls,_

_It comes awake and I can't control it,_

_Hiding under the bed, in my body, in my head,_

_Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?_

Hermione breathed deeply, trying to regain control. She honestly didn't know why she was getting so worked up over him recently. Every taunt seemed to hit a little deeper, like a needle being jabbed repeatedly in the same spot. She steadied herself with difficulty, trying to think of something, anything, to distract herself. She tried to remember the lyrics of that song she had heard.

_I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster,_

_I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster._

_I, I feel like a monster._

_I, I feel like a monster._

Malfoy looked at her, trying to gauge from behind what effect his comment had had on her. He was waiting on tenderhooks, wand held loosely at his side. He was more than half expecting her to spin around and jinx him into oblivion.

_My secret side I keep hid under lock and key,_

_I keep it caged but I can't control it,_

_'Cause if I let him out he'll tear me up, break me down,_

_Why won't somebody come and save me from this, make it end?_

She gripped her wand tight, resisting the urge to spin around and jinx him into oblivion. Her feelings were warring inside her. She wanted to kill him. No, she just wanted to walk away. No… she wanted to kill him. She mastered herself, but didn't trust her ability to resume spellwork yet, so she just stood stiffly, facing away from him.

_I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster,_

_I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster._

Malfoy noticed her back tense up, but also noticed that she was not hexing his balls off. He took that as a good sign. But, being Malfoy, he had to push the envelope just _one_ more time. "What's the matter, Granger? Did I hit a nerve. I'm sorry, would you like me to call a house elf to kiss and make better? Or maybe Weasley? They're about equal in intelligence; no wonder you love them both."

_I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster,_

_I, I feel like a monster,_

_I, I feel like a monster._

Hermione snapped. Without thinking, she whirled around, raising her wand lightning fast, and sent a Bat Bogey hex towards him. Ginny had taught her the technique over the summer, and she had become quite good, if not with the same natural ability as the redhead. She more than made up for that with intensity however, and the jet of light shot towards Malfoy at incredible speed.

_It's hiding in the dark, its teeth are razor sharp,_

_There's no escape for me, it wants my soul it wants my heart,_

_No one can hear me scream, maybe it's just a dream,_

_Maybe it's inside of me, stop this monster._

Malfoy saw her break, and saw her turn, but still nearly didn't manage to dodge the hex. It flew over his shoulder, blowing his hair back, and shattered a decorative vase on the countertop behind him that Hermione had conjured earlier. He raised his wand and cried, "Densaugeo!" It was the same curse he had accidentally hit her with in the dungeons in fourth year while battling Potter. It had made her teeth grow amazingly fast, and Madame Pomfrey had had to look up the charm to shrink them in the library.

_I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster,_

_I hate what I've become, the nightmare's just begun,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster._

Hermione was too fast, though, blocking the curse with ease. She practically growled in anger; she remembered that curse too. She replied almost immediately, sending a jelly-legs jinx at his knees.

_I feel it deep within, it's just beneath the skin,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster,_

_I've gotta lose control, he something radical,_

_I must confess that I feel like a monster._

It caught him unprepared, as he was already drawing back to send another curse her way. His reflexes, honed by years of Quidditch, stood him in good stead. He jumped over the jet of light, but unfortunately didn't pull his left leg up high enough, and it just struck the end of his shoe. The effect was therefore confined to the lower half of is left leg, but that was enough.

_I, I feel like a monster,_

Hermione smiled menacingly. She had him now. She yelled, "IMPEDIMENTA!" blasting Malfoy backwards. He landed in a heap underneath the counter behind him and was momentarily immobilized. His grip on his wand had been so tight, though, that it stayed in his hand.

_I, I feel like a monster,_

He could feel the spell's hold start to loosen, but he kept his muscles taut in their same positions, so as to not alert Granger to that fact. She walked across the room menacingly, and stood in front of his crumpled form. By then, however he had regained most of his mobility, and said, "Petrificus totalus," under his breath, barely flicking his wand, so as to give her no warning to block it.

_I, I feel like a monster,_

She heard his whisper though, and deflected the spell with a non-verbal _PROTEGO!_ which she thought as loud as she could. She did lock her muscles, though, to give the appearance of having been hit. She stood stock still, as he climbed out from under the counter. He turned slightly to dust himself off and fix his robes, and fortunately positioned himself on her left, slightly ahead, which was exactly where her wand was pointing. _Stupefy!_ she thought furiously, and a jet of red light illuminated the room for a second, before Malfoy's lifeless body fell to the ground.

_I, I feel like a monster!_

She stood over him for a few seconds, wondering what to do. She thought for a few seconds. _I can't wake him up now, he'll just attack me again. Should I just leave him there? He'd deserve it, but still… I don't want to give in to "the monster," now do I?  
_

She decided to compromise. She put her wand away and grabbed one of his legs. She dragged him towards the door, his head bumping over every rough spot on the floor (and being stone, there were many).

She went halfway outside the doorway, and dropped his leg. She pulled out her wand again, and levitated Malfoy so he was floating upright a few inches above the ground, just inside the doorway. She moved him out of the room, directing him as a puppeteer would a marionette. She shut the door behind her, and walked along the corridor, with the slightly disturbing floating form of Malfoy in front of her.

She walked to the head of the stairs, and cut the spell. He fell to the floor in a pile of limbs, and she strolled past, heading towards the library. She still had twenty-five minutes until her next class, plenty of time to do some reading.

She didn't see Malfoy in either of her classes that morning. They would have had Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions together. No one seemed to notice his empty seat in either class, but she kept staring at it, wondering. Where could he be? She hadn't left him in a _major_ hallway, but it was definitely used, so _someone_ should have found him and woken him up…

She snorted. He probably said that he didn't feel fit for class, and was lounging around in the hospital wing all day. That sounded like something he would do.

In fact, someone _had_ found him, and had woken him up, in the passing time between first and second period. James Archer, the same Hufflepuff who had found him stuck in the trick stair, was the one who came across him.

He immediately knelt next to Malfoy and muttered, "Rennervate," pointing his wand at the Head Boy's chest.

A few seconds later, Malfoy opened his eyes, to see Archer's face hovering above his. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" he asked startled, and sat up, wincing in pain.

He felt like he had been dragged some distance, and then dropped unceremoniously on the floor. The back of his head was particularly sore, though when he checked, there was no blood. He looked at Archer again, waiting for an answer.

"I just found you here," the Hufflepuff said, standing up, "We're on the first floor, next to a bunch of unused classrooms."

"Yeah," Malfoy said, standing up angrily, "I know where we are, thank you very much. Now what time is it, and have you seen Granger?"

"Who?" Archer looked confused.

"Granger?" Malfoy said, surprised. How could anyone not know who Granger was? "Annoying bookworm know-it-all, huge bushy hair, bad teeth? She's Head Girl…"

"Oh, Hermione," Archer said nodding, "I dunno where she is; though I'm sure you can ask a teacher. What happened to you, though, and why does it matter where Hermione is?"

Malfoy didn't answer, he just said, "You didn't answer my first question, though. What time is it?"

Archer checked his watch and said, "Its 9:07, we're in between first and second period now."

Malfoy weighed his choices. He could either go to class and pretend nothing happened, go to class and kill the infuriating mudblood, or not go to class, and think up a much more fun way to punish her.

He grinned, and Archer looked at his smile uneasily. It wasn't a very nice smile.

"Go on," Malfoy said, looking at him, "Get out of here before I dock points from Hufflepuff."

Archer looked surprised that he wasn't more grateful for having been woken up, but he just shook his head and walked away. It was Malfoy after all; he wouldn't expect anything else.

**A/N: So... IC for an angry Hermione? Not sure... I think anyone would do this if they got angry enough, but Hermione is always the voice of reason in the books, so idk. Review and tell me what you think.**


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: Ok, here's Chapter 13. My posts may become slightly less frequent, while I get used to actually thinking during the day (school started today), but I'll _TRY_ to keep up with one chapter a day. Enjoy.**

"Ron," Harry said, "Normally I think Hermione is just complaining, and I hate to sound like I'm nagging, but _do_ you ever stop eating?"

Ron glared at him, head still bent over his plate of food, and said, "Fu tub."

"No, I will _not_ shut up. Honestly, I'm starting to worry about you. Ever since… you know…" he glanced significantly over at Hermione, who was sitting a little ways down the Gryffindor table, talking to Ginny over her lunch.

Ron swallowed, with the assistance of some pumpkin juice, and said, "I'm fine mate, really." Harry looked at him knowingly, and Ron ducked back to his food quickly, not wanting to meet his eyes.

Hermione watched their exchange. The Great Hall was barely half full, as it was just the beginning of lunch. It was quiet enough for her to overhear them.

She sighed; she was still having trouble thinking of how she was going to apologize to Ron. She hadn't even had a chance to ask Harry for help yet. She just hadn't had time.

She sighed again; she couldn't do it now, she still had to finish preparing the prefect's meeting room for after class. Lunch was the only free time she had left in the day. She looked over to they Slytherin table, but Malfoy wasn't there. _Guess I'll do it myself then. It's probably for the best; we'd most likely start another duel if we were in there alone again._

She wolfed down the last of her food and quickly said goodbye to Ginny, then left for the meeting room. She really _didn't_ have enough time during lunch to get all of it done, but she refused to accept that. She'd do the best she could, and hope it was enough.

She opened the door, and lit the room with a wave of her wand. She looked around, and then looked around again. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

The room was spotless. All the desks were neatly lined up, the broken vase repaired, the dust vanished. Even the strange purple stain had been removed. She looked around in confusion.

"Well, Granger," said a drawling voice from behind the door. "Came back to the scene of the crime? You know, you're not supposed to do that. For someone so smart, you can be extraordinarily stupid sometimes."

Hermione spun around, and the door closed, pushed from behind by the one stepping out of the shadows. She gasped when she saw the platinum blonde hair, which was the first thing to emerge from the shadowed corner. Malfoy did not look happy.

Strangely, he didn't look angry, either. He looked the way that Harry did when he was resigning himself to doing something he really didn't want to do.

Malfoy sighed, and then said, "Look, Granger…" He paused, apparently having trouble thinking of what to say next.

"Well, out with it, ferret," she said, "What's the problem?"

"That is," he said, "That's the problem, right there."

She looked at him in confusion. What the heck was he talking about?

"Granger, it's the first day of term, and we already had an all out duel, which left one of us unconscious, and also forced them to suffer the indignity of being helped by a Hufflepuff." He shuddered, then glared at her and pointed to himself.

Hermione smiled, "Good, maybe you learned some humility."

"No," he said, "But I did learn something." She raised her eyebrows, but didn't interrupt. "Like I said, all this happened during the first period of the first term. How the bloody hell are we supposed to do this for an entire year if we're constantly at each other's throats?"

She started to reply, but then stopped. Strangely, he had a point. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that it _would_ be much more productive if they agreed to work together.

_Wait a second… this is MALFOY! Why is he suggesting this? And why am I agreeing with him?_

"Malfoy, why are _you_ the one who's saying this?" she asked. "I would have thought that your stupid pureblood pride wouldn't allow you to enter an alliance with a mudblood under any circumstances."

She looked at him expectantly. His answer would be interesting, to say the least.

He just smirked slightly and said, "Sadly, this _is_ the best way to protect my pride. I consider it better to acknowledge a worthy enemy than to refuse to admit—" He paused, and practically choked. He seemed to be unable to say the word "defeat."

Hermione smiled at that. _That cinches it,_ she thought,_ it _is_ still Malfoy. He's just choosing to be mature for once. What a pleasant surprise. Let's see if it lasts…_

"Than to refuse to admit that we can both benefit from a mutual alliance," he finished finally, and looked at her, daring her to say something.

She did not disappoint. "Nice speech, Malfoy. How long did you have to rehearse that in front of the mirror?"

He just rolled his eyes, and then changed tacks, saying, "Isn't it ironic how for once _I'm_ the one offering the olive branch and _you're_ the rejecting it because of your pride?"

That threw her, but she wasn't going to show it. Her mouth was working on autopilot, throwing out comebacks while most of her mind wondered if he was right. Was it just pride that was stopping her? _No! It's because he's tormented me for six years straight! It has to be…_

"I'm not rejecting it because of my pride," she said, indignantly, "I'm rejecting you on principle. I'm not about to forget six years of insults and agree to be your friend in an instant."

Malfoy sighed exasperatedly. She just didn't get it! "I'm not asking for a friendship Granger. I wouldn't want a friendship with you anyway." She snorted, and nodded. She didn't want a friendship with him either. "All I'm asking," he continued, "is that we stop actively attacking each other every five seconds. I don't know about you, but if we can't clean a room together for an hour, then I seriously doubt our ability to _live_ together for nine months."

She just looked at him for a few seconds, before sighing. _He really _does_ make a good point. And it'd be nice to get a break from his constant insults. _

_Ugh, this is going to be hard to say._ She drew in her breath, gathered her courage, swallowed her pride (twice; it gave her some trouble the first time), and then said, "Alright, you're right." She sighed explosively. There she had said it, and it wasn't _that_ painful. Now to conclude, "Draco Malfoy, will you accept a truce with your sworn enemy? At least for the time being?"

He looked surprised, as if he hadn't actually expected her to say yes, but he held out his hand and said, "I accept your truce."

They shook hands, and then broke apart.

There was an awkward silence for a few seconds before Hermione said, "Remember, this truce doesn't just cover dueling. We can't insult each other, either."

He stared at her, "Not at all?" he asked plaintively.

"Well," she said, "Maybe a little. But if the other person says to stop, then we stop for say, a day, alright."

Malfoy considered it for a second, and then said, "Alright, fine. If you tell me to stop, I won't insult you for twenty-four hours afterwards." He sighed, "At least I still get to insult you."

She chuckled, then asked, "So did you skip Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts to clean this room?"

He looked around, and then said, "Yeah… after I woke up to James Archer's ugly face, I wasn't that interested in going to class. Or eating, as a matter of fact. Not for a while, anyway."

She rolled her eyes. Of course Malfoy would insult whoever rescued him. _Actually…_ "So who is this James Archer? I'd like to ask why he would rescue someone like you anyway."

"Hey!" Malfoy protested. "I'll have you know, that I have a perfectly likable personality! In fact, I seem to attract more friends than I know what to do with! Especially female friends…" He trailed off suggestively, and began to preen.

"Urgh, no. I don't want to hear anything about that!" Hermione said.

"And anyway," Malfoy continued, "Don't you know him? The way he talked about you, it sounded like he knew you pretty well."

"No," Hermione said. "I've never heard of him before in my life. What did he say that made you think that?"

"I dunno," Malfoy shrugged, "He used your first name, and seemed concerned about you, that's all."

She shrugged in return. "No idea."

They lapsed into an awkward silence for a little bit, while they each looked anywhere but each other. Then, Hermione said, "Well, we'd better get going… Charms starts in ten minutes."

"You go first, Granger," he said. "I can't be seen walking into class with a mudblood."

She just rolled her eyes and said, "Have it your way, then. See you in class." She walked off, and Malfoy followed a few minutes later, even though it made him slightly late, and earned him a disapproving look from Professor Flitwick.

Hermione just shook her head when he sauntered in; some people would do anything to preserve their reputation.

**A/N: So I thought this chapter was particularly dialogue heavy, but I can't really help it: there's not much actual action to describe, just talking. And before anyone says anything about Malfoy's sudden change of heart, bear in mind that the next chapter will be from his point of view, and will hopefully satisfactorily explain why he decided on this course of action. As always, Review, and I will promise you candy yet not give it to you. [Though if you like ravioli, I've got an extra bag in the freezer ;-)]**


	15. ANNOUNCEMENT 2 More bad news

**Well, here we are again, another announcement. And yes, there is more bad news. Please don't kill me, because it's honestly not my fault. **

**Unfortunately updates will not be coming as frequently as I thought, as it seems that my internet connection has now permanently exploded into three billion pieces that even the tech guys that charge $100 per visit (just to look at it, not even for labor) can't fix. No one knows if it's the lines on my street, my modem, or my computer that's screwed up.  
**

**At the moment I'm at the library. I will try to get to the library as often as I can, and will upload all the chapters that I have written when I do (today I do not have a flash drive owing to a long string of events that have absolutely nothing to do with me getting a bunch of movies for free before they come out on DVD).**

**Like I said, please don't kill me. I hate this just as much as you do (probably more, since half of my homework this year seems to involve going online).**

**Hope I'll be able to update soon.  
**


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